


'Thomas'

by NiennaOronar



Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 13:13:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12211989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiennaOronar/pseuds/NiennaOronar
Summary: A short fic I wrote for Alzheimer's Awareness Month.





	'Thomas'

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for this fic, thinking about it made me feel sad so now you can share in my suffering.

He watched her pour them a cup of coffee. Her dress was beautiful, all in pastels she brightened the room. “What time will they be here?” He asked. She smiled at him as she put the coffee jug away and handed him a cup. “Five, darling.” There were chocolates on his saucer, three of them. “Thank you.” It would be a long day today, but she’d be there to help him through, so he’d be fine. He popped one of the chocolates in his mouth and sucked on it, the filling was sweet and fruity. He looked at her, she sat in her chair peacefully, her gaze turned to the window, watching the neighbourhood children play most likely. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, she was so beautiful, the dimples in her cheeks, her hair tied up beautifully. He just couldn’t believe that he had been so lucky as to bring her home. He took a sip of his coffee before leaning back in his chair. Today would be great. He was sure of it.

“Darling?” He opened his eyes. “Yes?” He blinked at her before he continued. “Oh, I’m so sorry love.” She smiled at him. “Are you tired, Thomas?” He blinked again and paused for a while. He wasn’t, not really. Are you tired Thomas? Her face changed slowly, blond hair framing a beautiful young gentle face. He inhaled her scent and imagined himself running into her embrace. He smiled at the thought. “What’s so funny, love?” Her voice brought him back from his reverie. She was facing him now, her eyes scanning his face. “Did I ever tell you that you are the only person, apart from my mother, to call me Thomas?” She took his left hand in her right and caressed it with her thumb. “Tell me.” He smiled again then recalled. “It started when I was little. No more than three years old I think, was the first time I can recall. She’d call me by my full name whenever I’d be doing something I wasn’t supposed to. It continued for a long time. A very long time.” She was listening attentively, only ever losing eye-contact when she closed her eyes when taking a sip of her drink. It was cute. The heat of the drink fogging up her glasses ever so slightly. “Well, go on. Don’t leave the story at that Thomas.” He popped another chocolate in his mouth in response and they both giggled like giddy teenagers. “I recall especially when I was about eight years old. Oh how often I had to sit on the naughty step.” She smiled at him. “The naughty step?” He nodded. “Oh yes, the third step from the bottom. I had to sit there very often. Now this one time…”

She was in the kitchen. He was watching a game of football absentmindedly. He hadn’t even noticed England had scored a goal. A sharp sound from the kitchen startled him she noticed, when he called out at her: “Are you okay, dear? Do you need me to give you a hand?” Her voice was warm and kind when she answered. “It’s fine, love. The cup slipped from my hands. It’s not broken.” He laughed. “Unfortunate, no good luck for us!” He could hear her giggle from the kitchen. When she joined him, England was ahead three to nil. “What time will they be here?” He asked her as she sat down. “They’ll be here at five, love.” 

The doorbell rang at five thirty. She readjusted his tie and kissed his cheek whilst their company took him from her. She made sure she took all they needed before they headed out. He sat in the front of the car, in the passenger seat. He listened to the radio and stared at the road. The moment he’d closed his eyes she spoke softly. “Where were you, James? You know that it is best to be on time, never mind the influence it has on your father, have we not taught you differently?” The man behind the wheel muttered an apology. “So did you watch the game today, dad?” The man paused. “Dad?” He opened his eyes quickly and looked around rapidly. “Where am I?” She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed softly. “You’re with me, baby. We’re on our way to the restaurant.” He covered her hand with his and held on to her. 

They were just about to start the main course when James stood up and raised his glass. All of the guests followed his motion and raised their glasses too, although remaining seated. “To my wonderful parents, 40 years of marriage is quite the milestone. May you enjoy many more together.” She laughed. “He doesn’t have your way with words, does he?” She whispered to her husband. “I don’t know the boy, but he might have wanted to phrase that a little better, yes,” he responded. She smiled at him, but a look in his eyes revealed that he wasn’t joking. “But the boy probably did his very best. So who are we to chastise him, hmm?” He smiled back at her. She sighed. 

She was making coffee when she heard him giggle. “What’s so funny, dear?” She asked in a friendly tone. “Oh wouldn’t you like to know…” She saw the glint in his eyes when she entered the room. “Oh I like this, seeing what I turn you into…” She put the tray down and sat down beside him. “Thomas..?” He looked at her from the corner of his eye. A smile playing on his lips. “If only your precious little friend was here…” She took his hand but he pulled it free. “Thomas, please…” She took a cup from the table and handed it to him. “I made you coffee, please drink your coffee.” He laughed, then his eyes narrowed as he stared her down. “You must be truly desperate-“ “Thomas stop it!” He raised his eyebrows. She closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m going to do the dishes. I’m in the kitchen when you need me.”

All in black she walked through a parting crowd. She sat down on the front row and waited. The words of the reverent didn’t reach her. The cries of the people behind her seemed dull and empty. It wasn’t until her son turned towards her that she realised it was time. She got up and taking her son’s arm she walked up the few steps. She stood behind the altar, took a deep breath, nodded towards her son and began.  
“Tom was the love of my life, he still is. From afar I’d often watched him practice his art. But it wasn’t until we started our little twitter war when I think he truly noticed me. He was a loving, funny, and kind spirited man and I loved everything about him. I loved how he would get into character before going to the set. I loved how he would come home bringing two cups of coffee having forgotten that I don’t like it. I loved how he would take a day off when I was feeling really ill. I loved his wit, I loved his charm, and I loved his tireless workaholic attitude although it hurt me at times. The last years of his life were hard on Tom. He just didn’t… Remember… There were days he didn’t remember who I was. There were days that he did… And then there were days when he forgot who he himself was. Those were the days I think he dreaded the most. I might not have been the best wife but I loved him and I hate that he had to leave me like this. It’s selfish and wrong and painful. But I loved him. And now he’s gone. People kept telling me that he was gone already. That I lost him a long time ago. The past few weeks when so many of his old characters visited I sometimes began to believe it myself. But he was still there.. My Thomas… He was a brilliant storyteller. A brilliant actor. I don’t have his way with words but I’d like to share with you my favourite story of his. “Did I ever tell you that you are the only person, apart from my mother, to call me Thomas?” That’s how he would start, and I had heard it often, but always I would respond… Always the same… “Tell me…”…


End file.
